While traipsing round the written moor, old mighty stacks in old Trantor,

I glanced upon such artifacts I'd ne'er perchanc'd afore!

My packs would burst, oh curse this purse,

were seams of string but universe!

With pen in teeth, and books beneath, I'd recall each artful masterpiece.

Yet not one vacant page upon the floor, and parchment poor...A fool, for sure, a bald old bore, I curse your name once more.

Oh master craft from aft to fore, spellwork bound in spine I'm sure,

How was I to write down names

I'd never heard before?

Itchy brow, and then knew how

My foolish head would save me now!

I wrote them down upon my crown, and shored my store of unseen lore!

Clever me, I surely swore dancing, trotting, through Trantor.

I noticed not how hot it got, when sweat began to pour.

I wiped my brow, and tell you how, I lost the lore forevermore.

-- Signed,

The Fool of Yore